Heart is buried six feet in the ground, gonna need a shovel now
The tears have brought a swelling to her head that throbs in tune with her heartbeat. It's pressure that builds behind her eyes, and she keeps her lids closed for a good part of the while now as she tries to ride through the awful sensation that seems to have crawled from her gut, to her chest, and now has taken residence in her head. Her throat runs drier, and all the busy lines of failure and confusion seem to blur into something even less manageable now. Nothing feels clear anymore, everything ballooning with grief until the shape is unrecognizable.
She doesn't need to answer his question, the answer is plain enough in her tears. Thankfully, he seems to agree, because he presses on, though she guesses the words he meant as something soothing, land like their own cuts with all the rest. No, she thinks, the sight of him walking away feeling so damn final, she doesn't think there's any hope of him coming back. She knows what Sunjata's trying to say, and she doesn't know the details of his falling out with Ru and Nate either, but she can't imagine it'd been so heartless, so sure, if they found their way back. Maybe before they'd actually loved each other first, too, and not whatever the hell and she Vesper had been doing. Climbing and falling and getting hurt, is all, it seems.
For a moment she doesn't stir or speak, just tries to ease into the constant feeling of shit that existing currently is. She tries to keep still, as if motion might shift something else and send it loose, painful or too bright to look at right. "It's impossible to go back in time," she tells him, stubborn and bitter. No, she's not eating up his version of hope in the slightest. "That's all that'd help now," she says on a sigh. "Can't undo the channel that upset him, can't undo the way he reacted to it." Whether Sunjata is right or wrong, none of it can reach her where she's at currently, and she fully believes what she says. Those moments left a crease on something that'd once been flush, and even if you unbend it now, the little line is always there, marring what'd once been.
Maybe part of her problem is trying to keep something too smooth, thinking maybe it's possible to protect something enough that all the roughness of the world can't get to it. She once believed she'd had that, just didn't realize all the lines that kept wrinkling it in the dark, impossible to see until the lights turned back on. Made sense maybe she could pretend there's something unblemished with a man that bids shadows, but turns out this time, even in the dark all the creases made themselves known.
"Only thing I'm aiming to fix now is never doing this again," she asserts, folding in the softer pieces behind the shell of this destruction.
She doesn't need to answer his question, the answer is plain enough in her tears. Thankfully, he seems to agree, because he presses on, though she guesses the words he meant as something soothing, land like their own cuts with all the rest. No, she thinks, the sight of him walking away feeling so damn final, she doesn't think there's any hope of him coming back. She knows what Sunjata's trying to say, and she doesn't know the details of his falling out with Ru and Nate either, but she can't imagine it'd been so heartless, so sure, if they found their way back. Maybe before they'd actually loved each other first, too, and not whatever the hell and she Vesper had been doing. Climbing and falling and getting hurt, is all, it seems.
For a moment she doesn't stir or speak, just tries to ease into the constant feeling of shit that existing currently is. She tries to keep still, as if motion might shift something else and send it loose, painful or too bright to look at right. "It's impossible to go back in time," she tells him, stubborn and bitter. No, she's not eating up his version of hope in the slightest. "That's all that'd help now," she says on a sigh. "Can't undo the channel that upset him, can't undo the way he reacted to it." Whether Sunjata is right or wrong, none of it can reach her where she's at currently, and she fully believes what she says. Those moments left a crease on something that'd once been flush, and even if you unbend it now, the little line is always there, marring what'd once been.
Maybe part of her problem is trying to keep something too smooth, thinking maybe it's possible to protect something enough that all the roughness of the world can't get to it. She once believed she'd had that, just didn't realize all the lines that kept wrinkling it in the dark, impossible to see until the lights turned back on. Made sense maybe she could pretend there's something unblemished with a man that bids shadows, but turns out this time, even in the dark all the creases made themselves known.
"Only thing I'm aiming to fix now is never doing this again," she asserts, folding in the softer pieces behind the shell of this destruction.
Colt
Maybe one day I'll get back the rhythm in my chest
Received a Gilded Market wig from Remi that resembles her usual hair and is enchanted to stay on better than most wigs | has a reverse centaur tattoo on her left hand with the legs going down her pointer and middle fingers that looks like this.
